


Tamam?

by Half_Fallen



Series: Crossfire [3]
Category: Icerde - TV Series, icerde
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Eating Disorders, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 18:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15443601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Half_Fallen/pseuds/Half_Fallen
Summary: “It’s just that…” He begins, not sure of how he is going to finish that sentence. He takes a deep breath, then another. “It is work related.” Yeah, that sounds like a reasonable reason not to want to talk. He knows Sarp won’t push it any further and so Mert won’t have to explain himself.There is nothing to explain, really. Mert has done nothing this time. However, he cannot help but feel a little down from time to time. Just the tinniest bits of blue, like everybody else. And just like everybody else he has this unbearable urge to drink his weight in alcohol until he cannot remember his own name, or gently insert a fucking bullet in his skull and get it over with.





	Tamam?

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so before we continue I owe you guys a HUGE apology! I know I promised a story AGES ago, but I wasn't able to keep my promise. I know every excuse remains an excuse, but believe me when I say that I didn't do this out of neglect, school issues got on the way, way too seriously. So, I am really really sorry about posting this so late. 
> 
> This story was a requests from Batt.  
> "And do u do reqs? If so id like one, where they get drunk together( like playing a drinking game or sth?!!) And Mert ends up confessing about his feats and problems he has with himself"  
> I found it quite interesting so I decided to play with things a little.
> 
> However, I wish you like this story and I would be thrilled to know what you think! Enjoy!

Finding Mert in his almost empty, chilly apartment late at night with his lights off is something quite ordinary for Sarp. Finding Mert drinking his way through a bottle of Jack in his almost chilly apartment late at night with his lights off is not something that happens every day.

 

“Drinking our way to cirrhosis?” He asks with half a laugh as he toes his shoes off and makes his way to the couch Mert is sitting on. He drops the bag he’s holding on the coffee table and sits beside Mert.

 

“What’s the occasion, askim? What are we celebrating?” Sarp says wrapping his arms around him and resting his head on Mert’s shoulder. Mert takes another sip off the bottle and sighs. Slowly he turns to look at Sarp, but says nothing.

 

“Did I forget our anniversary again?”

 

“Nope. And if you did, you wouldn’t live for ‘again’.” Mert says simply, chuckling as he takes another sip.

 

“I brought food. I got some good kebabs from your boss’s old friend.” Sarp uttered, nuzzling Mert’s neck as his hands sneak into Mert’s own to steal the bottle.

 

“Yok ya! Stop trying to corrupt me to join your side, Sarp. That’s never going to happen. Not even food can achieve that, hayatim!” He laughs as Sarp gulps down some whiskey, leaning to kiss him just shortly after.

 

“What’s this all really about?” He questions again and the laughter is wiped away from Mert’s face as his hands rest on top of Sarp’s just above the neck of the bottle.

 

“Nothing, really. Don’t you have days when you want to drink yourself to oblivion?” He asks in a monotonous voice, eyes low on the ground.

 

“Last time I checked, you weren’t the drinking type, askim. Also, that heavy stuff you got there, that’s going to be some tough shit to clean up tomorrow morning. I don’t think you want to do this.”

 

“I’ve been drunk before, Sarp. Not my first time, won’t be my last either.” Irritation is clear on his voice as he takes another swig off the bottle he somehow managed to sneak out of Sarp’s hands. Sarp looks at him with that kind of stare that burns holes into his skull and Mert feels so small all of sudden, as if the world grew ten times in size under 3 and a half seconds. He tries to give himself time. Mert knows that once he starts talking there will be no turning back.

 

A pair of lips on his temple seems to wipe out any of his previous thoughts. He takes a deep breath.

 

“It’s just that…” He begins, not sure of how he is going to finish that sentence. He takes a deep breath, then another. “It is work related.” Yeah, that sounds like a reasonable reason not to want to talk. He knows Sarp won’t push it any further and so Mert won’t have to explain himself.

 

There is nothing to explain, really. Mert has done nothing this time. However, he cannot help but feel a little down from time to time. Just the tinniest bits of blue, like everybody else. And just like everybody else he has this unbearable urge to drink his weight in alcohol until he cannot remember his own name, or gently insert a fucking bullet in his skull and get it over with.

 

It’s been a harsh few weeks. Hell, it’s been a harsh life, but Mert feels like these past few weeks have really done it for him.

 

Ok, Mert can bear Yusuf Müdür breathing down his neck, even juggle Celal baba’s trust issues and general madness, but it seems that in the past few weeks all this has been multiplied by seven and added to his endless and biggest worry of all: Kudret!

 

Not to mention the constant guilt that keeps rotting his insides: The very fact that he’s lying to Sarp.

 

Sarp.

 

Deep down he knows that when things work out in the end (if they will and if both of them are alive to see that happen), Sarp will forgive him. Mert knows that Sarp will be glad Mert is one of them, that all will be forgiven as they rule Istanbul back to back, unstoppable.

 

Mert doesn’t like thinking, at all. But his mind cannot help but wonder at times like these when he is drunk and cold and has Sarp within touching distance. He’d love to have that; a family all of his own. And while he knows that Melek and Celal baba are his family, his only true family, Mert cannot help the unexplainable feeling that keeps crawling in the back of his mind way too often; a family with Sarp. So when he is drunk enough he allows himself to be bold enough and think about the endless possibilities of having Sarp by his side forever.

 

The thought of losing him is something he prefers not to think about and also something he deep down knows it is very likely to happen. In this war, Mert contemplates, there is no right or wrong. Every lost soul is collateral damage used to wash away the thirst for power and dominance.

 

It’s a tough time for both of them, but Mert consoles himself with the thought that Sarp knows how to behave himself. He has lived on Celal baba’s shadow long enough and if his thick skull is smart enough not to get killed within the next two months, Mert believes he has just enough time to finish this all and come out on top. Just a few more months, he thinks. Just a little more time, that is all he needs to make sure Melek, Celal baba and Sarp won’t be put in danger ever again.

 

“What’s brewing in that pretty little head of yours, huh?” Sarp’s gruff voice pulls him out of his thoughts and into the cold reality, only that now, thanks to alcohol, it’s a little bit more colorful and blurry around the edges.

 

“Just things.” He whispers, just enough for him to hear.

 

“What kind?” Sarp asks. Mert can sense the faint worry in his voice. That bastard, he thinks he’s going to take the information he wants. Well Mert is not going to say a word tonight. No sir, Sarp Yilmaz won’t get a word out of him.

 

And there he starts spilling his soul to Sarp Yilmaz.

 

“Just thoughts… memories. I used to live on the streets, you know? Back at when I was little. Actually living on the streets is all I can remember from my childhood.” He takes another sip, sadly noting that the whiskey in that bottle is almost gone. Too bad! He is feeling lazy to get up for seconds and knows Sarp is not going to let him get seconds anyway.

 

“There was this bastard, this sick, twisted man that would gather children like me and throw them on the streets to sell handkerchiefs. He’d beat us bloody, collect our money and then get us to the streets again. If we were still kicking we were good to go, it didn’t matter if we were sick or hungry. Man, I can’t even remember one night I went to sleep in which I wasn’t beaten or hungry or sick.” He feels Sarp tightening his arm around Mert’s shoulders. He doesn’t turn to look at him, but Mert knows he must be fuming with anger.

 

“There was this one night,” Mert continues, “the one I remember above all.  It must have been January. I wandered the streets all day, tried all day, begged even… It’s like I can feel the cold wind biting onto my face and hand and feet and all over my body… I couldn’t sell anything at all.” It’s so easy to dwell on the past, the negative and the horrible memories that keep him awake at night. The memories are so vivid Mert only needs a couple to be set for the whole week. But Sarp doesn’t need this! He doesn’t need to see how fucked up Mert really is. Sarp has done nothing to be burdened with Mert’s troublesome past and despite how much he’d like to have a shoulder to cry on he refuses to have Sarp watch him cry. So he deals with it the same way he always has; through dark humor and horrible jokes he himself laughs hysterically at.

 

“As a conclusion, Mr. Big Bad Wolf beat me until I couldn’t move and left me to sleep in the biting cold so that would teach me to be a better salesman. So here I am now, thanks to that man I can conquer Wall Street. If his beatings hadn’t damaged my brain cells I could’ve been a fine business man instead of a cop, don’t you think? ” He laughs, but even to his own ears it sounds strained and pained, because how the fuck wouldn’t it? This is fucking Coscun he’s talking about!

 

Sarp on the other hand, doesn’t miss the way Mert’s eyes water or how his hands tremble as they take the bottle to his lips in-between the shocking things his mouth is spilling. His own heart shakes with rage, because how could someone do this to a child? What kind of monster tortures children like this? Mert’s laughter is strained and wet with the tears Sarp knows he’s trying so hard not to shed. It pains him, the fact that Mert doesn’t trust him enough to let himself go in front of him.

 

Mert goes on:

 

“But it isn’t all that bad, you know? This foster family eventually found me and kept me until I became legal, still talk to them sometimes… better that Mr. Big Bad Wolf for sure. I’m not even sad that things turned out to be this way.” They both know it’s a lie.

 

“What about you true family?” Sarp asks, dread slowly rotting his insides as he thinks of the possibility that his Umut could have had the same fate as Mert growing up on the streets.

 

“I don’t have one.” Mert asks simply, with such calm that startles Sarp. “When I was younger I used to believe that they were somewhere out there, searching for me, worried about me. I used to tell myself that they lost me, that they couldn’t have left me on the streets because they didn’t love me. I used to believe that one day they would find them and every night I would go to sleep empty bellied and bruised and I would pray to God that my family would find its way to me… But growing up I came to realize that there was no one coming for me. I simply had no family and that wasn’t going to change. There was no use crying over it, so I learned to stand on my own two feet and never rely on anyone. The world didn’t care about me so why should I care about it?” Mert takes a deep breath and finishes the remaining Jack throwing the bottle on the floor.

 

“Well,” Sarp begins to say, “now that we’ve finished with our beverages let’s start with our food, shall we?” It’s a lame attempt to lighten up the mood, but it’s the first one his mind came up with.

 

“What’s this fixation of yours to feed me, devram?” Mert asks, turning to look at Sarp. He’s so fucking beautiful, Sarp thinks irrelevantly.

 

“Not a fixation.”

 

“Obsession, whatever you choose to call it. Why though?”

 

“Not an obsession either. I just… care about you, ok? And I know how you get with your work and everything and just leave everything behind. I just want you to be well, that’s all, askim.” Mert is taken aback by that. He isn’t used to people caring about him and being faced with Sarp’s words looking at him so intensely with those eyes that hold nothing but love makes Mert want to cry. He doesn’t know what to do in such situations. Mert Karadag can kill four people with a single pen and is capable of finding his way out of a deadly freezer, but he doesn’t know how to respond to affection.

 

The first bite in Celal Baba’s kebabs only makes it worse.

 

It’s making him cry, Sarp’s affection and the savor of kebabs that remind him that he is saved and ok and never has to suffer from starvation again, and Mert refuses to cry in front of Sarp.

 

“Will you tell me the real reason?” Sarp asks quietly.

 

“What reason?” Mert questions between mouthfuls of food. Man, it’s been so long since he’s had Celal Baba’s cooking.

 

“The reason you don’t eat, Mert.” Mert opens his mouth to object, but Sarp cuts him off. “Yes, Mert, I know about you not eating regularly. I just wanna know why. You are beautiful, and breathtaking and the sexiest person I’ve ever seen and-”

 

“It’s not about that.” Mert blurts out. “I’m not one of those magazine girls, Sarp, don’t be ridiculous. We’ve already talked about this!” Anger rips through him suddenly. Sarp has no right over this! He has no business and no rights whatsoever to judge Mert’s coping mechanisms.

 

“No, _I_ talked about it and _I_ assumed things and you said you’d be fine. You still don’t eat on purpose, though. I just want to know why you do this.” Sarp says meekly, like he’s hurt deeply and some sober part of Mert’s mind knows he probably is.

 

“I’m preparing myself for Turkey’s Next Top Model.” Mert grits back through a sarcastic smile.

 

“You see? I hate it when you do this! You respond to everything with dark humor instead of telling me how you truly feel? It’s just as simple as that Mert, no rocket science!”

 

“Oh, really? You really want to know? Well, you got your wish! I don’t eat because that bastard that raised me used food to control me, so each time something would go bad he would starve me until I broke. Now every time I fuck something up I starve myself as a way of punishment. I use my dark humor because I cannot simply go around telling people I want to kill myself and by now my trust issues should be self explanatory to you. I also feel like I’ll never be worthy of someone’s love, because if my own family didn’t want me why would someone else care about me? But what’s worse than that, Sarp Yilmaz, is the fact that I have to wrestle with the constant feeling of never being good enough, that I’ll always be alone because no one can possibly love someone like me. That’s what’s eating me, Sarp! That’s the real, true reason you’re seeking. Now you can leave your keys by the counter, I totally understand.” He is panting by the time he finishes, all red eyed and chest filled with those damn tears he won’t shed. He is sure that between him and Sarp it is finally over. No one can hear what Sarp just heard and still want to be with Mert. It’s just the way things are.

 

In the end Mert is destined to be alone.

 

He cannot bear to look Sarp in the eyes, but when he finally does he is not expecting to be faced with _that_. He expects Sarp to get up and leave, perhaps shout at him, or even a get in a big fight… but no. Sarp looks at him with such pain in his eyes, with such dread and unbearable sadness Mert didn’t know could be transmitted through one’s eyes. Sarp’s eyes are actually teary and for the first time in his life Mert sees famous Sarp Yilmaz crying. It all happens in such slow motion Mert doesn’t know how to react.

 

Sarp throws himself at Mert, crushing him with his weight and wrapping his arms tightly around him, immobilizing Mert.

 

“Never! Never again in your whole life, Mert Karadag, don’t you dare to think that I’m ever going to leave you.” Sarp says close to his ear.

 

“I am not going anywhere, no matter what happens. I love you, Mert! I didn’t think you’d find out like this, but I love you and that isn’t going to change. I am not going to leave! I’ll be here for as long as you’ll have me and even longer, no restraining order can keep me away from you.” They laugh and it’s all heavy and watery, like their lungs have sunken into this puddle of tears they were both trying to contain. Mert finds out that he is crying too, only that this time he’s not afraid to show it.

 

“What happened to you,” Sarp continues, “is not your fault and it is not what makes you as a person. Whatever issues you’re dealing with, I promise you, we will work them out together. You will overcome this. _We_ will overcome this Mert Karadag. I promise. I promise!” He grabs Mert’s face between his hands and looks deep into his eyes. Mert smiles back at him, all red eyed and blotchy faced but beautiful still. Sarp said he loved him! He wasn’t going to leave. The sober part of his mind could not believe it, but his slightly less sober part of the mind told him shut up and go with it, because this was Sarp, the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

 

“Tamam?” Sarp looks him deep in the eyes, doing that goofy smile of his while still crying. Mert cannot help but smile brighter.

 

“Tamam!” He responds.

 

There are other things Mert wants to say, but these kinds of promises need time.

 

 Just a little bit more time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You are the best! Comments and kudos make an author happy!


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